<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Pensive Bakes by threemeows</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726195">Pensive Bakes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/threemeows/pseuds/threemeows'>threemeows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>To All the Boys I've Loved Before (Movies), To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I loved it a lot, when does p.s. i still love you get it's own tag lmao, you guys i loved it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:08:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/threemeows/pseuds/threemeows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All the other times Lara Jean #pensivebakes. Spoilers for the P.S. I Still Love You movie and guesswork for the third movie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Ambrose McClaren &amp; Lara Jean Song-Covey, John Ambrose McClaren/Lara Jean Song-Covey, Peter Kavinsky &amp; Lara Jean Song-Covey, Peter Kavinsky/Lara Jean Song-Covey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pensive Bakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>quick and dirty guys, sorry/not sorry</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.<br/>
<br/>
Lara Jean stops by the bedroom door. Cautiously, she peers inside. Daddy is curled up next to Kitty in the toddler bed, stroking her back. Her little sister has long since passed out. <br/>
<br/>
Daddy doesn’t see her. He’s murmuring something, something Mom would sing to put Kitty to bed. To put her and Margot to bed. </p>
<p>Lara Jean bites her lip. She slowly makes her way to Margot’s room. The door is closed, and there is no light coming from underneath. But she knows Gogo’s up. She can hear the soft crying.<br/>
<br/>
Quietly, Lara Jean pads downstairs. It’s dark, and all she can hear down here is the ticking from the clock - steady, and endless. <br/>
<br/>
She needs to do something. <br/>
<br/>
In a few minutes, she’s whipped out the iPad for the recipe - the flour, eggs, sugar - the hand mixer. Something simple. Something easy. But something distracting. Something to get her mind off Daddy, crying silently in his chair - Margot stiffly holding her hand and telling her to be strong - Kitty whining for “Mama, where’s Mama.”</p>
<p>This is the first time she’s made snickerdoodles all by herself. So it takes a long time, and her arms grow tired from handling the hand mixer all by herself so she has to take breaks. They come out imperfect - in uneven circles, some crispier than others around the edges. She can tell she didn’t put enough cinnamon in.</p>
<p>By the time she’s done, she hasn’t forgotten all the crying she’s done today. Not by a long shot. But she’s so exhausted she doesn’t care. </p>
<p>And in the morning, Daddy smiles at her, his eyes red and declares them the best snickerdoodles she’s ever made – and Margot praises her technique and her seasoning, and Kitty doesn’t know any better to not eat them.<br/>
<br/>
2.<br/>
<br/>
“So. Uh. What’re you ... doing tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
Lara Jean face heats as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Um, Kitty has a social studies project. I promised to help her,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. <br/>
<br/>
“Ah. Cool. So ... no movie night,” Peter says, casually.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, not tonight.” She pauses. He looks disappointed. She thinks. She doesn’t know. Maybe? Things have been so - she doesn’t have the word for it - <em>heightened</em> is the first thing that pops into her head - ever since dinner with his mom.</p>
<p>Before she can stop herself she adds, “Maybe next time.” Which - stupid. So stupid. She shouldn’t be actively seeking out his company when they’re - she’s - and <em>he’s</em> - <br/>
<br/>
His eyes brighten immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, cool.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods, not looking at him - at his eyes. “Thanks for the ride,” she says, shouldering her backpack. She slides out of the Jeep and closes the door. <br/>
<br/>
“See ya,” he calls, through the open window. <br/>
<br/>
She purses her lips, nods. Her face feels really hot. She tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear because she’s already tucked it behind her ear and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. As she walks up the path to the house she’s more than aware he hasn’t pulled away from the curb. <br/>
<br/>
<em>Just making sure you’ve got in safely</em>, she reasons, sternly, as she unlocks the front door. She turns and waves. From inside his car, Peter makes a thumb and forefinger shooting motion at her. She watches the Jeep curve down the street. <em>And you’re just making sure he drives safe. <br/>
</em><br/>
After they eat dinner - after she helps Kitty with her diorama - she’s restless, prowling about the mess in her bedroom. There’s nothing to do <em>but</em> bake. Four trays of snickerdoodles, all perfectly circular and deliciously golden, the right amount of chewy and crisp. She’s had practice over the years - worrying over major tests . . . when Margot announced she was going to Scotland for college and leaving all of them alone . . . every time she was gearing herself up to write a letter to a boy. <br/>
<br/>
She’s very proud of herself, and close to midnight she posts her accomplishment on her Instagram. <br/>
<br/>
#snickerdoodles #latenightbake #pensivebake <br/>
<br/>
She goes to bed feeling a little less muddled, the smell of sugar and cinnamon in her hair, and so she doesn’t see the like that comes in thirty minutes later, from someone who’s also been up and thinking and wondering. <br/>
<br/>
3.<br/>
<br/>
After the aquarium, Lara Jean starts to take out the ingredients and utensils and supplies. Stacks them in separate sections on the island - is even measuring out the flour, two cups in, when it hits her.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't finish. Instead, she puts everything back in its place, and goes up to her bedroom to cry some more.<br/>
<br/>
4.<br/>
<br/>
Lara Jean hugs the box of chocolate peanut butter cupcakes closer to her as she climbs the steps to Belleview. As she closes the double doors behind her, she already knows where to find him.<br/>
<br/>
“I just wanted to say, um, I’m really sorry,” she says, softly, setting the box on the piano seat next to John Ambrose. “I didn’t mean to ... cause all this trouble.”<br/>
<br/>
The music dies off. John Ambrose finally looks up. His brows dip, and she bites in the inside of her cheek and looks away. She knows she made the right decision.</p>
<p>It just sucks she had to hurt him.</p>
<p>“Did I even have a chance?”</p>
<p>She shrugs her shoulders. “You know . . . I guess we had bad timing. What if you had asked me to the dance. What if Peter had never gotten his letter. Peter just – I dunno. Got there first, and he wouldn’t leave.” She shakes her head, and thinks of the only thing she can say, because she means it, whole-heartedly, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He shrugs too, nodding slowly. “I get it, LJ. I do. I guess you’re right – bad timing. It wasn’t our time then, and it isn’t now.” Then he meets her gaze, steady, head-on. “But maybe one day it will be.”</p>
<p>The way he says it – quiet, unequivocal – knocks the wind from her lungs. She can only look at him for a moment, stunned, before she gives him a tentative smile and gently presses his hand with her own. “Take care, John Ambrose.”</p>
<p>He smiles back, sadly. “Take care, Lara Jean.”</p>
<p>She leaves to the sounds of his music filling the halls, tinkling and sweet and grand. Before she slides the car into drive, she opens up the Tupperware lying on the passenger seat, and takes a big bite out of a golden snickerdoodle. <br/>
<br/>
5.<br/>
<br/>
Cinnamon. Cream of tartar. Butter. Sugar. Vanilla ...<br/>
<br/>
Lara Jean works steadily, face pinched in concentration. The kitchen is hot - it’s been unseasonably warm this spring. Beads of sweat are starting to form at her hairline. Really, she shouldn’t be baking at all in this heat. <br/>
<br/>
But Peter will be here any minute. She woke up early to make him salted caramel cupcakes and was already done when he texted that he and his mom were stuck in traffic coming back from the lax training camp, so now she’s left waiting and anxious with extra time on her hands. <br/>
<br/>
She doesn’t know what he’ll say. He’s been so moody lately, with his dad showing up again. But he should be happy for her, right? After all, it’s an incredible school, with an incredible writing program. It’s an amazing opportunity. <br/>
<br/>
The doorbell rings, just as she’s sliding the tray of snickerdoodles into the oven. She washes her hands and wipes them on the hem of her apron, before she goes to open the door, salted caramel cupcake in hand. </p>
<p>“Hey!” she chirps, brightly, as she kisses his cheek. She hands him the cupcake, which he takes gratefully – but then something passes over his face and he hands it back.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t,” he says, sliding onto a barstool at the island.</p>
<p>“Really?” In the entire almost two years of them dating (including the fake-dating part), he’s never, ever refused one of her baked goods. Especially a salted caramel cupcake.</p>
<p>He makes a face, and rubs the small of his back. “Yeah. The guys at training camp are in like, <em>amazing </em>shape. I could barely keep up. I’m going to have to up my game. And change my diet.” He rests his chin on his hands and yawns. “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Oh, um, nothing . . .” Lara Jean hesitates, concerned. He looks really tired.</p>
<p>Peter eyes the ingredients, still on the granite top. Then he looks at her, his expression worried. “So ... something’s up.”<br/>
<br/>
Lara Jean gives him a nervous smile. Her fingers twist in the hem of her apron. “So. Um. I got off the waitlist. For NYU.”</p>
<p>-The End-</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>